Tree and Plant Worship

By J. A. MacCulloch

The Celts had their own cult of trees, but they adopted local cults—Ligurian,
Iberian, and others. The Fagus Deus (the divine beech), the Sex arbor
or Sex arbores of Pyrenean inscriptions, and an anonymous god represented
by a conifer on an altar at Toulouse, probably point to local Ligurian tree
cults continued by the Celts into Roman times.[659] Forests were also
personified or ruled by a single goddess, like Dea Arduinna of the
Ardennes and Dea Abnoba of the Black Forest.[660] But more primitive
ideas prevailed, like that which assigned a whole class of tree-divinities to a
forest, e.g. the Fatae Dervones, spirits of the oak-woods of Northern
Italy.[661] Groups of trees like Sex arbores were venerated, perhaps for
their height, isolation, or some other peculiarity.

The Celts made their sacred places in dark groves, the trees being hung with
offerings or with the heads of victims. Human sacrifices were hung or impaled on
trees, e.g. by the warriors of Boudicca.[662] These, like the offerings still
placed by the folk on sacred trees, were attached to them because the trees were
the abode of spirits or divinities who in many cases had power over vegetation.

Pliny said of the Celts: “They esteem nothing more sacred than the mistletoe
and the tree on which it grows. But apart from this they choose oak-woods for
their sacred groves, and perform no sacred rite without using oak
branches.”[663] Maximus of Tyre also speaks of the Celtic (? German) image of
Zeus as a lofty oak, and an old Irish glossary gives daur, “oak,” as an
early Irish name for “god,” and glosses it by dia, “god.”[664] The sacred
need-fire may have been obtained by friction from oak-wood, and it is because of
the old sacredness of the oak that a piece of its wood is still used as a
talisman in Brittany.[665] Other Aryan folk besides the Celts regarded the oak
as the symbol of a high god, of the sun or the sky,[666] but probably this was
not its earliest significance. Oak forests were once more extensive over Europe
than they are now, and the old tradition that men once lived on acorns has been
shown to be well-founded by the witness of archaeological finds, e.g. in
Northern Italy.[667] A people living in an oak region and subsisting in part on
acorns might easily take the oak as a representative of the spirit of vegetation
or growth. It was long-lived, its foliage was a protection, it supplied food,
its wood was used as fuel, and it was thus clearly the friend of man. For these
reasons, and because it was the most abiding and living thing men knew, it
became the embodiment of the spirits of life and growth. Folk-lore survivals
show that the spirit of vegetation in the shape of his representative was
annually slain while yet in full vigor, that his life might benefit all things
and be passed on undiminished to his successor.[668] Hence the oak or a human
being representing the spirit of vegetation, or both together, were burned in
the Midsummer fires. How, then, did the oak come to symbolize a god equated
with Zeus. Though the equation may be worthless, it is possible that the
connection lay in the fact that Zeus and Jupiter had agricultural functions, or
that, when the equation was made, the earlier spirit of vegetation had become a
divinity with functions resembling those of Zeus. The fires were kindled to
recruit the sun’s life; they were fed with oak-wood, and in them an oak or a
human victim representing the spirit embodied in the oak was burned. Hence it
may have been thought that the sun was strengthened by the fire residing in the
sacred oak; it was thus “the original storehouse or reservoir of the fire which
was from time to time drawn out to feed the sun.”[669] The oak thus became the
symbol of a bright god also connected with growth. But, to judge by folk
survivals, the older conception still remained potent, and tree or human victim
affected for good all vegetable growth as well as man’s life, while at the same
time the fire strengthened the sun.

Dr. Evans argues that “the original holy object within the central triliths
of Stonehenge was a sacred tree,” an oak, image of the Celtic Zeus. The tree and
the stones, once associated with ancestor worship, had become symbols of “a more
celestial Spirit or Spirits than those of departed human beings.”[670] But
Stonehenge has now been proved to have been in existence before the arrival of
the Celts, hence such a cult must have been pre-Celtic, though it may quite well
have been adopted by the Celts. Whether this hypothetical cult was practiced by
a tribe, a group of tribes, or by the whole people, must remain obscure, and,
indeed, it may well be questioned whether Stonehenge was ever more than the
scene of some ancestral rites.

Other trees—the yew, the cypress, the alder, and the ash, were venerated, to
judge by what Lucan relates of the sacred grove at Marseilles. The Irish Druids
attributed special virtues to the hazel, rowan, and yew, the wood of which was
used in magical ceremonies described in Irish texts.[671] Fires of rowan were
lit by the Druids of rival armies, and incantations said over them in order to
discomfit the opposing host,[672] and the wood of all these trees is still
believed to be efficacious against fairies and witches.

The Irish bile was a sacred tree, of great age, growing over a holy
well or fort. Five of them are described in the Dindsenchas, and one was
an oak, which not only yielded acorns, but nuts and apples.[673] The mythic
trees of Elysium had the same varied fruitage, and the reason in both cases is
perhaps the fact that when the cultivated apple took the place of acorns and
nuts as a food staple, words signifying “nut” or “acorn” were transferred to the
apple. A myth of trees on which all these fruits grew might then easily arise.
Another Irish bile was a yew described in a poem as “a firm strong god,”
while such phrases in this poem as “word-pure man,” “judgment of origin,” “spell
of knowledge,” may have some reference to the custom of writing divinations in
ogham on rods of yew. The other bile were ash-trees, and from one of them
the Fir Bile, “men of the tree,” were named—perhaps a totem-clan.[674]
The lives of kings and chiefs appear to have been connected with these trees,
probably as representatives of the spirit of vegetation embodied in the tree,
and under their shadow they were inaugurated. But as a substitute for the king
was slain, so doubtless these pre-eminent sacred trees were too sacred, too much
charged with supernatural force, to be cut down and burned, and the yearly
ritual would be performed with another tree. But in time of feud one tribe
gloried in destroying the bile of another; and even in the tenth century,
when the bile maighe Adair was destroyed by Maelocohlen the act was
regarded with horror. “But, O reader, this deed did not pass unpunished.”[675]
Of another bile, that of Borrisokane, it was said that any house in which
a fragment of it was burned would itself be destroyed by fire.[676]

Tribal and personal names point to belief in descent from tree gods or
spirits and perhaps to totemism. The Eburones were the yew-tree tribe (eburos);
the Bituriges perhaps had the mistletoe for their symbol, and their surname
Vivisci implies that they were called “Mistletoe men.”[677] If bile
(tree) is connected with the name Bile, that of the ancestor of the Milesians,
this may point to some myth of descent from a sacred tree, as in the case of the
Fir Bile, or “men of the tree.”[678] Other names like Guidgen
(Viduo-genos, “son of the tree”), Dergen (Dervo-genos, “son of the oak”),
Guerngen (Verno-genos, “son of the alder”), imply filiation to a tree. Though
these names became conventional, they express what had once been a living
belief. Names borrowed directly from trees are also found---Eburos or Ebur,
“yew,” Derua or Deruacus, “oak,” etc.

The veneration of trees growing beside burial mounds or megalithic monuments
was probably a pre-Celtic cult continued by the Celts. The tree embodied the
ghost of the person buried under it, but such a ghost could then hardly be
differentiated from a tree spirit or divinity. Even now in Celtic districts
extreme veneration exists for trees growing in cemeteries and in other places.
It is dangerous to cut them down or to pluck a leaf or branch from them, while
in Breton churchyards the yew is thought to spread a root to the mouth of each
corpse.[679] The story of the grave of Cyperissa, daughter of a Celtic king in
the Danube region, from which first sprang the “mournful cypress,”[680] is
connected with universal legends of trees growing from the graves of lovers
until their branches intertwine. These embody the belief that the spirit of the
dead is in the tree, which was thus in all likelihood the object of a cult.
Instances of these legends occur in Celtic story. Yew-stakes driven through the
bodies of Naisi and Deirdre to keep them apart, became yew-trees the tops of
which embraced over Armagh Cathedral. A yew sprang from the grave of Baile Mac
Buain, and an apple-tree from that of his lover Aillinn, and the top of each had
the form of their heads.[681] The identification of tree and ghost is here
complete.

The elder, rowan, and thorn are still planted round houses to keep off
witches, or sprigs of rowan are placed over doorways—a survival from the time
when they were believed to be tenanted by a beneficent spirit hostile to evil
influences. In Ireland and the Isle of Man the thorn is thought to be the resort
of fairies, and they, like the woodland fairies or “wood men” are probably
representatives of the older tree spirits and gods of groves and forests.[682]

Tree-worship was rooted in the oldest nature worship, and the Church had the
utmost difficulty in suppressing it. Councils fulminated against the cult of
trees, against offerings to them or the placing of lights before them and before
wells or stones, and against the belief that certain trees were too sacred to be
cut down or burned. Heavy fines were levied against those who practiced these
rites, yet still they continued.[683] Amator, Bishop of Auxerre, tried to stop
the worship of a large pear-tree standing in the centre of the town and on which
the semi-Christian inhabitants hung animals’ heads with much ribaldry. At last
S. Germanus destroyed it, but at the risk of his life. S. Martin of Tours was
allowed to destroy a temple, but the people would not permit him to attack a
much venerated pine-tree which stood beside it—an excellent example of the way
in which the more official paganism fell before Christianity, while the older
religion of the soil, from which it sprang, could not be entirely
eradicated.[684] The Church often effected a compromise. Images of the gods
affixed to trees were replaced by those of the Virgin, but with curious results.
Legends arose telling how the faithful had been led to such trees and there
discovered the image of the Madonna miraculously placed among the branches.[685]
These are analogous to the legends of the discovery of images of the Virgin in
the earth, such images being really those of the Matres.

Representations of sacred trees are occasionally met with on coins, altars,
and ex votos.[686] If the interpretation be correct which sees a
representation of part of the Cuchulainn legend on the Paris and Treves altars,
the trees figured there would not necessarily be sacred. But otherwise they may
depict sacred trees.

We now turn to Pliny’s account of the mistletoe rite. The Druids held nothing
more sacred than this plant and the tree on which it grew, probably an oak. Of
it groves were formed, while branches of the oak were used in all religious
rites. Everything growing on the oak had been sent from heaven, and the presence
of the mistletoe showed that God had selected the tree for especial favor. Rare
as it was, when found the mistletoe was the object of a careful ritual. On the
sixth day of the moon it was culled. Preparations for a sacrifice and feast were
made beneath the tree, and two white bulls whose horns had never been bound were
brought there. A Druid, clad in white, ascended the tree and cut the mistletoe
with a golden sickle. As it fell it was caught in a white cloth; the bulls were
then sacrificed, and prayer was made that God would make His gift prosperous to
those on whom He had bestowed it. The mistletoe was called “the universal
healer,” and a potion made from it caused barren animals to be fruitful. It was
also a remedy against all poisons.[687] We can hardly believe that such an
elaborate ritual merely led up to the medico-magical use of the mistletoe.
Possibly, of course, the rite was an attenuated survival of something which had
once been more important, but it is more likely that Pliny gives only a few
picturesque details and passes by the rationale of the ritual. He does
not tell us who the “God” of whom he speaks was, perhaps the sun-god or the god
of vegetation. As to the “gift,” it was probably in his mind the mistletoe, but
it may quite well have meant the gift of growth in field and fold. The tree was
perhaps cut down and burned; the oxen may have been incarnations of a god of
vegetation, as the tree also may have been. We need not here repeat the meaning
which has been given to the ritual,[688] but it may be added that if this
meaning is correct, the rite probably took place at the time of the Midsummer
festival, a festival of growth and fertility. Mistletoe is still gathered on
Midsummer eve and used as an antidote to poisons or for the cure of wounds. Its
Druidic name is still preserved in Celtic speech in words signifying
“all-healer,” while it is also called sugh an daraich, “sap of the oak,”
and Druidh lus, “Druid’s weed.”[689]

Pliny describes other Celtic herbs of grace. Selago was culled without
use of iron after a sacrifice of bread and wine—probably to the spirit of the
plant. The person gathering it wore a white robe, and went with unshod feet
after washing them. According to the Druids, Selago preserved one from
accident, and its smoke when burned healed maladies of the eye.[690] Samolus
was placed in drinking troughs as a remedy against disease in cattle. It was
culled by a person fasting, with the left hand; it must be wholly uprooted, and
the gatherer must not look behind him.[691] Vervain was gathered at
sunrise after a sacrifice to the earth as an expiation—perhaps because its
surface was about to be disturbed. When it was rubbed on the body all wishes
were gratified; it dispelled fevers and other maladies; it was an antidote
against serpents; and it conciliated hearts. A branch of the dried herb used to
asperge a banquet-hall made the guests more convivial[692]

The ritual used in gathering these plants—silence, various taboos, ritual
purity, sacrifice—is found wherever plants are culled whose virtue lies in this
that they are possessed by a spirit. Other plants are still used as charms by
modern Celtic peasants, and, in some cases, the ritual of gathering them
resembles that described by Pliny.[693] In Irish sagas plants have magical
powers. “Fairy herbs” placed in a bath restored beauty to women bathing
therein.[694] During the Tain Cuchulainn’s wounds were healed with
“balsams and healing herbs of fairy potency,” and Diancecht used similar herbs
to restore the dead at the battle of Mag-tured.[695]

[666] Mr. Chadwick (Jour. Anth. Inst. xxx. 26) connects this high god with
thunder, and regards the Celtic Zeus (Taranis, in his opinion) as a thunder-god.
The oak was associated with this god because his worshippers dwelt under oaks.

[685] Grimm, Teut. Myth. 76; Maury, 13, 299. The story of beautiful
women found in trees may be connected with the custom of placing images in
trees, or with the belief that a goddess might be seen emerging from the tree in
which she dwelt.